The Galactic Turbosteel Strike
by Hamfast Gamgee
Summary: This is a kind of sequal to Evil of The Empire which I wrote some time ago.Which I think some people read and some possibly enjoyed. It is set ten years before the events of a New Hope. Some reviews would be very welcome!
1. Flashpoint!

The Galactic Turbosteel Strike

Mr .N threw his tool at the wall. He had been working at Smelting some Turbosteel in the large workers factory on Nimbus 3 and the recent news had been grating on him all day been impounded by a heavy eight hour shift in the factory. Mr.N was a Turbosteel worker. Turbosteel was one of the most important metals in the Galaxy and politically the Turbosteel workers where a very influential group of people. They had formed their own Union with a distinct history and a sometimes very turbulent one where Intergalactic Governments where concerned.

In particular the workers did not get on with the current Imperial regime. Well, in many ways the Imperial regime didn't get on well with it. Since coming to power, Palpatine had decided that the Union was had too much power and had been determined to remove some of it, for reasons which will become clear. The Union had been frozen out of many important committees, the workforce had been cut back a little, hours had been extended and attacks had been made on its funding. It was the extension of the hours which had been annoying Mr.N.

'That's it,' cried he in tired anger and frustration. 'I am not doing it. I have had it with working all hours, then been forced to work a little more just because the Government is too stingy to pay for a few more workers. We don't deserve to be pushed like this!' he marched in his anger along the huge metal frames of the working factory, making is way for the staff cantina.

'Long day?' asked the Barman, a long-briaded Twi-lek called Chantinda. 'Tell me about it. But tomorrow won't be. Want to know why? Because I won't be here.' The Twi-lek chuckled sympathetically. 'What on a Thursday. Feeling a bit queasy are we? I thought you where looking unwell. I hope you are getting prove from a Doctor, however. Someone as well-informed as yourself would know that the company takes a very dim view on unofficial sickness.'

Mr.N took a gulp of his brown coloured Beer, which at least did taste good if one could ignore the recent 5p price rise, another sore point, and ran his fingers through his brown hair. 'No, I'm not going of sick,' informed he, 'I'm going on Strike. I have just been pushed to the limit. If anyone thinks that I am going to work another unpaid half-hour on my shift they have Asteroids in their brain.'

'And I think the Turbosteel board takes an even dimmer view of unofficial Strikes. Oh, and look a friend of yours.' Mr.N turned around and sighed as he saw a small, balding officious-looking man behind him. His foreman at work. With whom Mr.N had such an………. Interesting relationship.

The foreman, name of Derrick, tapped his shoulder. 'Oi, you, I heard that about your Strike. You're not going to do that. We want you in tomorrow.'

'You can just forget about it. I'm going on strike. Then I'm going to contact my union bosses. We'll see what's going on around here.

Derrick sipped a little of what looked like weak, white wine. 'A wildcat strike, eh? No way sunbeam, not with your record. We will suspend you first then sack you. After a chat in the office.'

'Oh, yes,' Mr.N was an even-tempered man normally, but he was been pushed to the limit here. He leaned forward towards his Boss. 'Oh, really. Well to give you a bit of advice, I suggest that you look behind me. Whilst you have been bullying me, more than a few people have come to this Bar. I don't think my strike will be as alone as you might think. If you take a look around you and at all that noise you will see that I am not alone. 'Mr.N was correct about that. Entering to the bar, and as almost as annoyed as Mr.N was a large group of Turbosteel workers. Some Human, some a variety of species, such as Wookies, Hungans, Frackans, more Twi-leks and others.

The foreman scuttled over towards them and tried to sort things out. But workers where very angry. Loud voices where raised and fingers gesticulated towards each other. Mr.N was the local union representative or rep as more commonly known as. He was called over. Well, as it happened Mr.N was not the only angry person. Indeed, his feelings was only a representation of all the workers on the Planet, a major turbosteel producer. 'You'll help me calm this lot down?'

'No. In fact my colleagues are justified in their anger. You lot are going to have to listen to us. Or, in your case just run away. Things could get a bit ugly.'

The point was that the extra half an hour shift was really the straw that broke the Tuskan's back. One major issue was that Turbosteel workers had been made redundant. Around 10 of the factories had been proposed to close down. With the rest of the workers making up the shortfall. The Imperial spokesman had said, 'in these difficult times we all have to make sacrifices,' although it appeared too many that some had to make more sacrifices than others. A feeling of militancy had swept over most of the Turbosteel workforce in the galaxy. Some factories had already walked out and many more such as this one where to follow. The Union's governing body, its executive was about to hold a meeting to make the dispute official. But no secret ballot amongst the workforce. Well, actually such a thing had not been thought of as necessary up to now. But the lack of one was going to become a political point of which the Imperial regime could bash the Union with.

Truth was that in some ways the Turobosteel workers where in a privileged position in the Galaxy. This was because as the producers of one of the Galaxy's most important raw materials the workers had organized themselves into a union to ensure that no-one exploited them in this manner as had happened in centuries gone by. This union had become very powerful and had brought down Chancellors on some occasions. For this reason Palpatine had been cautious to directly take on the Turbosteelers. At least up to now.

So, while the rest of the Galaxy groaned under Imperial repression, tyranny and evil, the Turbosteelers where allowed a limited amount of freedom of expression that much of the Galaxy simply didn't enjoy. Now, to some it might seem that an industrial dispute is not as exciting? Or significant as say a space battle, impending doom to the galaxy or Imperial takeovers but it was extremely important. Turbosteel was essential to the galaxy's economic well been. Without it, the Imperial regime would have collapsed imperial Sith lord, or no Imperial Sith lord. A long-term strike by the Turbosteelers could radically alter the shape of the Galaxy.

One month passed. Orbiting Nimbus 3 was an Imperial Star Destroyer, containing one of the most powerful men in the Galaxy, Grand Moff Tarkin, and a brown-haired, tallest to medium build, rather thin with somewhat of a rubbery face. That would be Rear-admiral Whitesnake known politely in 

the Galaxy as Tarkin's hound. Actually, impolitely he was known by rather a lot of other more ugly names, but there's no need to go into that here!

Whitesnake turned to his commanding officer and said, 'Now, please explain to me again, why we can't take a squadron of Tie-fighters, an army of Stormtroopers, aim our lasers at the planet, and step by step wipe out all of our opposition on it in a blazing ball of fire?'

Tarkin and Whitesnake where looking down from the Star Destroyer's bridge window at the yellow planet below. Tarkin gave a tight smile and responded, 'Well, I suppose I could ask you to read the Official press to gain an understanding of events, but no. I think you need some proper analysis. Fine, what this is is a very delicate political situation. These people are on strike. Though they don't all admit it, this is in fact a highly political strike. If there was an all-out walkout, they could bring the Imperial Government down.

'However, fortunately for us the strike is not total. Around 80 of the Turbosteelers are on strike, but one-fifth of the workforce are still at work so we have, for now, just about enough Turbosteel production. But at any moment, the workforce that are at work could join the strike. And they are watching us. Despite their differences there still remains a certain amount of sympathy between them. If we make too much of an aggressive action that would very well be enough to turn them against us. We must be careful. Plus if we do launch a strike the turbosteelers down there have told us that they are perfectly capable of destroying the factories. That would put a serious dent in our production.

'Plus Palpatine is involved. This could all be part of one of his plots. Wheels within wheels, I'm afraid!'

Whitesnake smiled. Wheels within wheels, indeed. That was the trouble with the Emperor of all the Galaxy. Been a Sith Lord, he didn't just have wheels within wheels. He had wheels within wheels, within greater wheels, on top of wheels, surrounded by wheels, all moving on one big wheel, half of them moving in different directions. But despite Tarkin's justified scorn for the official press. Well, frankly, they weren't very informative really, Whiesnake decided that he would do a bit of reading up.

'Frustrating, though, having to do things this way. Playing the waiting game. I just don't like it.'

'Whitesnake, you do what I tell you to do for the good of the Empire. Weather you like it or not is immaterial.'

'Yes. But I do need something to take out my frustration on. I am in the mood for performing a little bit of mindless violence.'

At that moment there was a movement as someone came up to Whitesnake's side. 'Latest reports, sir.'

Ah, that was Baldrick, Whitesnake's very dim-witted underling. Well, why waste a good opportunity. 'Thank you,' said Whitesnake, then knocked Baldrick down with his fist for the hell of it.


	2. The strike commences

In the staff cantina, which was now a little empty and was used as a kind of headquarters of the Nimbus 3 striking Turbosteelers, sat Mr.N, a major union representative, above him, one of the governing body, even called Dave and Dave's wife Julie. Dave downed half a pint in one go and put down the glass with a satisfied sigh. But Julie was lest approving. 'You really want to watch that Beer your drinking does you no favours, you know!' she scorned.

Dave gave an easy smile in response, 'oh, come on, we all need to relax. Now, N, how is morale amongst your lot, this strike has been going on for a while now. We can give you financial support if you need it.'

'I suggest you listen you your wife about your drinking, it may let you down one day. But whatever, morale is holding up. But we may very well need that financial support you where talking about. Especially if this dispute is going to become a war of attrition. The Empire has cut of supplies to this planet, officially under some obscure reason involving spacerights, but everyone knows it's really to do with the strike and the population's strong support of it. At least here. But we are having shortages and our shopkeepers are been less than sympatric towards us.'

Dave frowned, totally forgetting Mr.N's comments about his drinking. 'I think I can help with the supplies. I do know people who can help you out there. I'll have a little word. Well, I have a union executive meeting later on this week. If you like you can accompany me. We're always interested in the opinions of those on the ground Arthur Pit coal is charring it.' That was the leader of the Turbosteel union. A bit of a radical firebrand. Especially in his opposition to the Empire Palpatine. He was one of the few people in public life who had the courage to critize the Empire so publicly and forcefully. Helped by the semi-privileged position the workers where in.

Mr.N accepted the invitation gratefully, 'Yes, I'd love to come. I'd like to meet the Hirebrand again.' Arthur Pitcoal wasn't human. He was of the Hirebrand species. Many of the Turbosteelers weren't human, more than half actually, though the humans where the most numerous species. But Mr.N did have an idea of how Dave was going to get the supplies. From the smugglers. Many had landed on Nimbus 3 delivering unofficial goods, partly due to chocking Imperial regulation and taxation, but more on that subject later. Mr.N thought Dave's plan was definitely frowned on by the authorities and at the worse highly illegal, but if the Strikers won, then it might not matter, thought he.

So, Mr.N was of to the Planet Corellia where the Turbosteel union had it's headquarters. It wasn't an easy journey. Despite the Union officials been above the Imperial oppression in some ways, they where still hampered and searched by custom and the like. Many times. It seemed that the Imperials where determined to catch the people out for something. At one point, Mr.N had to stop a Stormtrooper scanning the droid, 67t, with a tool, which strangely had been reprogrammed to a point where it would have exploded the droid.

'Thank you for your help, kind sir,' 67t said to Mr.N. And on another occasion, Mr.N did a quick scan on planetary entry and found that one of the ship's wiring had been altered and set to explode on entering the atmosphere.

'Now that is interesting,' commented he. 'Any ideas who might be behind this?'

'Someone in the Empire I would guess. While the Imperials are, at the moment, not taking any direct actions against the strikers for fear of alienating those at work, they are certainly not above 

actions of stealth and cunning. Many of us fear assassination attempts, more than once those of us in the Exec who support the strike the strongest have spotted some suspicious movements, on one case Arthur, our leader saw what he was sure was a suicide droid just near him. We don't know for sure if the Droid was after Arthur, they have many different and complex missions, those things, but we got rid of it all the same,' explained Dave.

Well, the exec meeting was due the next day. It was an extremely important one, setting out the direction of the striker's policy for the coming month. But before the start, there was a little surprise for Mr.N. 'We have someone here for you,' said Dave and, in a Bar which was owned by the union a figure emerged from behind a newsvid. Mugwort! The mysterious Mugwort! One of the major opponents of the Empire. He had been a wanted man now for some years, although technically speaking he wasn't a man, but he was also extremely clever and Mr.N knew that Mugwort often managed to appear with a large number of fake IDs.

Mugwort extended a black hand and enthusiastically shock Mr.N's. 'Pleasure to be here. Nice to see you again! I thought I might sit in on a couple of Union meetings too. Might need my assistance.'

Mr.N replied, 'Thanks. I see your reading the News. Some of us had a little fun some days ago with the stormtroopers I hear,'

Mugwort stopped the pleasantries. He sighed, 'Is that what you call it? I'm afraid your fun is putting you in a very bad light in the Imperial media. There are very graphic pictures of those Stormtroopers that where beaten up. Yes, I know none of ours are shown but we must be careful. Try not to rise to any provocation. We do it appears have some supporters in the Imperial council. But the last thing you need to do is to alienate the entire body.'

Mugwort was accompanied by a lady by the name of Judi. She supported him. 'Yes, Mugwort is right. There has been some talk about outright rebellion against the Empire and there has been certainly some fighting on the fringes. But this could be our chance to remove the Empire peacefully. You people are producing something which the Empire crucially needs. I think it's taking everybody a little while to realize this. But it's a shame at the moment that you are not all united.'

'We'll come to that.' Added Dave. But Judi was right. Around 20 of the Turbosteelers where still working. A total walkout would have stopped Turbosteel production. The Empire would not have coped with no Turbosteel. It wouldn't even have been able to produce any spaceships. Or anything, actually. But going on strike can be a painful experience as the Turbosteelers themselves needed to sell their products to survive.

So, the Empire had, largely under Tarkin's policy blackmailed, bullied, besieged, bribed some sections of the workforce to remain working. But an all-out strike was still a possibility. So the situation remained tense. Anyway it was time for the meeting and everyone rolled out.

As he left the cantina, Dave couldn't help but notice Whitesnake and Baldrick on one of the tables, trying their best to be inconspicuous. 'Evening Imperial commander Whitesnake, evening Baldrick,' said Dave loudly to them, smiling at their attempts to hide from the stares of the crowd.

Except Baldrick that is who replied with a smile, 'Good evening,' than yelped as Whitesnake kicked him in the shin under the table.

'We are supposed to be trying to be here quietly,' Whitesnake growled at his assistant.

Dave smiled as he entered the Union exec meeting room. Well, Mr.N thought that sitting in on a meeting like this was very informative. The Union's leader Arthur was very energetic and enthusiastic as he normally was in speeches, rallying people and making sure that the meeting stayed in order. But one thing which Mr.N noted was how much Dave had influence. Unions governing bodies where not necessarily all democratic places. There where one or two people there that would have liked to have tried to bypass the views of the ordinary Turbosteelers. Dave was one of those that made sure it didn't happen.

When he wasn't drinking too much that was. More than once Dave nearly nodded of and Mr.N had to nudge him awake. But one point was raised by one member. 'There has been some suggestion that we should have a secret ballot to legitimize this strike action, should we do this?'

Arthur answered, 'Personally I don't see why. It isn't in the constitution that we should. As 80 of us are on strike anyway, I think that people are voting with their actions, don't you?'

'Yes, but if we are so sure of success, we could just hold one anyway to counter some of the propaganda against us,' suggested the first speaker.

Dave was just dropping of again and had to be nudged by Judi to answer this point, 'That's a bit of a red herring. Would having a ballot change the reaction of the Imperial press by one degree? I don't think so. Remember the case of the Alderaan electrical strike. They decided to have a ballot where strike action was supported by 95 I do believe. Didn't stop the press saying that they where all greedy workers who should be boiled in oil, practically did it?' Which was quite a perceptive political point. Dave was a good leader when he wanted to be. Just a shame he relied so much on cheap ale. But partly that was because of the Galaxy been in such a bad way an no way to help it. Enough to drive anyone to drink.


	3. The Smugglers

So, that was the amount of useful information which Mr.N gathered from this meeting, fascinating as he found it. One point of interest was how Dave was able to get more supplies into his homeworld. Mr.N said his suspicions to Dave. 'It's smugglers, isn't it? That's how you're going to supply us with more supplies. Can't say I blame you. Some of those recent Imperial taxes are killing any honest business.' Which was as true a political statement as any. But more on that later.

Dave gave a slightly sheepish nod in reply. 'Yes, Mugwort, I am glad to say, does know some people. I have met those which he takes about. I believe them to be trusty.'

Which was enough of the meeting which Mr.N gathered for now. But there was one spectacular moment slightly after they broke up. Through a crowd of people, most of whom, Mr.N was assured where loyal to the Turbosteelers a mob broke through. Where they came, few saw, but all of a sudden there was violence, chasing, fighting and the like. Many of the mob seemed human, but almost emotionless with glaring eyes and very similar looking.

Some of them seemed armed with a variety of primitive but sharp weapons. A tight group of them headed towards Mr.N. Dave seemed about to put up a fight, and Mr.N was thinking of bravely fighting alongside his leader. Against around 20 knife-wielding thugs. Now, as it will later become clear, it is important in this tale that Dave survives for a time. I.E. Not dying in some heroic, if justified manner. So, Mr.N saw Mugwort grab Dave bodily, then jump across one of the walking ramp's railings down a few levels out of the way of the violence. Oh, and to stop himself getting killed, Mr.N had to show a very nifty bit of footwork and dive under a set of stairs, while some kind of Union security sorted the occasion out.

After everything quietened down, Mr.N did ask Mugwort, 'That was a little odd. Why do you suppose some people would be so eager to kill me?'

Mugwort gave a laugh in response, 'What makes you think they where after you? Yes, they might well have randomly killed you given the chance, but I suspect that their main target was Dave here!'

'That's because, N, that Dave is an important union official. I am afraid that you are not. Also, he has received Death threats, like many of those that support this action. Tarkin is trying to intimidate people into returning to work. His poodle, Whitesnake, was spotted earlier as you saw. I was wondering what game he was playing!'

Mr.N smiled and nodded to Judi. The middle-aged lady did seem to have a firm grasp upon what had happened! But the incident wasn't casualtieless. One of the workers that the troublemakers seemed to have an eye for, selected by a totally random basis had been stabbed to death and a few others had received injuries. If it wasn't for the prompt and subtle workings of the Union security, the incident might well have been far more ugly.

But with that, it was time to return to Nimbus. Dave and Mugwort had given Mr.N some contact to help with the smuggling of supplies. Smuggling could be widespread in certain parts of the Galaxy, but it was also very dangerous for the Smugglers. Some managed to make a rich living for themselves, but for many it was a desperate way to avoid the draconian Imperial taxes. Those that where caught, often found themselves at the arbitrary mercy of Imperial justice. Which very often meant death.

Although, it seemed today, that the official route into Nimbus was a bit on the slow side. 'Customs officials it seems,' sighed Dave in frustration. 'Seems to be extra Imperial checks. Well, there has been more Smuggling activity recently. They must be annoyed and doubly vigilant.'

Well, the Imperial in charge of today's vigilance was, in fact, Baldrick. Captain Baldrick. How did he become a Captain? That's Imperial politics! Whitesnake had been carried away to some important, but desperately dull Imperial committee meeting he was forced to attend for the day. The last thing he had said before departing was to Baldrick, 'Please try to make sure that the smuggling is kept under bay while I am gone.' This was a mistake by Whitesnake. Baldrick was about to take this instruction to its fullest.

Which was why the first ship of the day, a pretty common Corvellian Transporter was intercepted by Baldrick instantly. 'Ha, ha, Corvellion vessel, not so fast. We need to do a thorough search upon your premises.' Baldrick had radioed.

'Look, is this really necessary? 'Its skipper had pleaded with Baldrick.

'Ah, questioning the process of an Imperial investigation are we? I wonder what you're guilty of?' Baldrick replied sharply and made the poor skipper, who was clearly a simple civilian on business stand and watch his ship been searched at the point of a rifle-blaster. Well there was no getting past Baldrick. He tore the ship apart. 'You have some counter brand here I am sure of that, no pulling wool over my eyes!' said he!

Only after have the ship had been destroyed, and would have had to have been put together a the skipper's expense – The empire did not offer compensation in situations such as this – was the ship allowed to continue. A little queue was beginning to build up at customs. 'Captain, we really should hurry this up!' an experienced custom official argued with him.

'Never mind that, I intend to catch these smugglers!'

'Yes, but……….'

So it was the next ship's turn, a freighter with Imperial colours and with a history of trading if Baldrick had bothered to look, but that made no difference. It was transporting lifestock which Baldrick could see with one look. But he said, 'Lets check every panel. Probably got a secret compartment. Ahhha, all these straw covered apples! What are they hiding I wonder. Get to it!' More expensive and slow time passed and the queue lengthened.

Baldrick was deaf to pleas and shouts from those caught up in the queue plus those on the planetary surface. 'Ahhh, an Aldreanan scooner. Well, we know what those Alderanans are like. What's this flutes? Probably got illegal pills hidden in every one. Come on get to it!'

That day an unnecessary queue the like of which hadn't been seen for years had build up, consisting, ironically enough of those citizens that where loyal to the Empire. But people where getting more and more frustrated. Baldrick had managed to annoy a secretary to the Governor, an Imperial journalist, and a mistress to one of the powerful landlords. How she had complained! His assistant had tried to get his attention and finally managed to attract the single-minded official.

'Look, this is pretty pointless. We only have limited resources. The spaceports only cover 10 of possible entries. Any smuggler would almost certainly bypass these customs.'

'But, that's illegal,' whispered Baldrick, forgetting that these where smugglers and so a little bit of illegal activity would mean nothing to them. '10? Well 10 is better than 0 get to it!' Baldrick did have a little difficulty in understanding basic arithmetic at times!

But it was about now that a horrified Whitesnake returned. He was inundated with complaints. Unfortunately he couldn't take one tactic he liked to employ in these situations and execute some of the complainers! Many where Imperials of at least as much influence as he. If Tarkin got to know about this, he would not be impressed.

Whitesnake snapped, 'Baldrick, what in space do you think you're doing. Don't give me that! I'll take over from here. All right, we'd better let people through. We can't really check them properly now, thank you Baldrick! But we do know smuggling activity is happening. Time for a word with intelligence, I think. Oh, and Baldrick, smack your forehead down, hard on my knee, please,' said Whitesnake holding out his knee.

Incredibly Baldrick did so and staggered of, blood pouring from his nose. Again, it must be asked why Baldrick, obviously an incompetent managed to make the rank of Captain? Well, to be honest, Baldrick was more typical of an Imperial commander than Whitesnake or Tarkin. Blundering incompetence rather than intelligence was the norm. Which simply made them all the more dangerous for those opposing the Empire.

Which in their own way where Gram Only and Matt. A couple of desperado's not by their own choice, but high up on the Imperial wanted list. But both with disguised IDs and with a knack of avoiding Imperial searches. Gram was the elder of the duo, coming up to 40, stocky and dark-haired. Matt was just over 30 and dirty blond and lanky. Accompanying them was a rather irritating protocol droid, f60.

'There, you go Matt; we have a free run-in from here. A nice comfortable landing not an Imperial in sight and we will soon be with our fence. With more money for us! Gram was confidently saying.

'Which we need. Have you seen the number of repairs that need doing on this ship? We'll be spending most of that just on giving us the ability to take off again. But it is good to avoid those Imperials. Gives us a chance to breathe.' Replied Matt as he adjusted some of the ship's controls to landing configurations.

The two where smuggling of course. In fact, they where one of the main contacts of Mugworts. Which was useful to them. Mugwort was a fair dealer and he had dealings with the two of them before and could be trusted. They where going to be supplying items that where in short supply to Mr.N and his strikers.

Gram sighed however as they entered Nimbus 3's atmosphere. 'Yes, but all this sneaking around is getting on my nerves a bit. I always feel like a little insect in the corner when it comes to Imperials. Sometimes I say bring them on. At least we'd have fun for a while,'

'Yes, but we'd be dead. At least this way we survive. And there are some pretty nasty ways to die out there!


	4. The Empire!

Having landed on a slightly unofficial spaceport, Gram and Matt where met by Mugwort.

'You have the correct supplies?' asked he.

'Yes. Many supplies of foodstuffs. We've been carrying a container larger than the rest of our ship. Plus this is really only the first test run. If this route works out, more should be forthcoming.'

'Excellent. Plus it's a pleasure to see you again Gram! This will come in useful for many of the workers. But the Imperials are sniffing around at the moment; they appear to be nervous I'd wait till tomorrow for your next run.'

'Fine Mugwort. Perhaps I'll take a trip to the bar. Is Dave about? He seems to be heavily involved in this strike,' asked Gram.

'He's not here at the moment, he's busy at the moment if you're referring to Mr Dave Barrowclough of the Union. '

'Oh, well shame about that Muggers. We get on well. We used to make a reasonable team at cards you know! Something to do with different styles. I was always the emotional one and he always relied on cool logic. But maybe I'll have a chance to play some cards.'

This was treated to a laugh by Matt. Gram's performance at the noble galactic game of Sabacc and all its varieties was definitely a little hit and miss. It was a good thing Gram wasn't a professional gambler, or he would have starved. 'Just try to keep count of logic and to win more than you loose.' He hissed to his partner.

But later on that evening the two where in the works cantina. Matt gave a little nod to Mr.N. 'Things are getting a little hot, politically, it seems,' he said sympathetically.

'Tell me about it. Tense and dangerous as well.'

'Well, what's new? In fact some of this political stuff been talked around the bar is beginning to get on my nerves. I don't do politics you know!'

Matt laughed at this. Gram was always saying that he didn't have an interest in politics. Yet he was an outlaw on the run from the Imperial authorities. And the Imperials where pretty political people. One couldn't really get much more political than that. Yet Gram always insisted on bringing up his, 'I don't do politics,' line, living in denial. Mind, the way that most of the galactic politicians behaved, corrupt, self-serving, cowardly with no sense of inspiration and little original thought, this was very understandable.

'Hey, look that's Sarah! How's my favorite Barmaid?' called Matt over to a red-haired women a little younger than he who was pouring drinks.

'That's assistant Bar manageress to you! Plus executive director as I like to think of. And what are you boys having?' Sarah was quite an attractive woman. Well actually she wasn't really that especially good-looking but she did have the odd knack of making the best out of what she had. For reasons which will become clear.

In fact she did a nice little trick. As Matt said, 'I think that's 3 glasses of Corvellian ale, sorry for the rush,'

Sarah managed to pour one glass in one hand. No surprise. One glass in another hand. Again, no surprise. But to be able to pour 3 glasses at once, especially as she hadn't touched, physically the 3rd glass was quite a neat trick. 'Thank you Matt, and I reckon that's one for me, then?'

'Oh, go on then. But just make it one cheap shot, please, I'm not so sure how our credit line is looking right now. Gram is playing cards for money!'

'Well, good luck and I'll just have a fruit juice, then, Oh, watch out, everyone, stormtroopers'

Which was true. For some reason a patrol of stormtroopers, white-armored and very dangerous had entered the bar. Whatever the purpose was, and it was quite certain that it wasn't for a beer; they had a little look around. Now as it happened Matt and Gram where known in one of their different identities for the Imperials who where searching for them, but it was still unnerving to have the Stormtroopers around. But they where clearly in for another purpose and so left.

'Wonder what evil purpose they are up to?' said Matt as he watched them depart.

'Trying to provoke us, I wouldn't be surprised. They'd just love for us to create some serious violence as an excuse to execute all of us. And that might well happen. You might not be political, Gram, but personally I loathe this Empire and all it's done to the Galaxy.'

She had good reason too. For the last ten years and before in another way, the Galaxy had groaned under Imperial tyranny. It was set up by Palpatine, after years of civil war in the Galaxy, under the excuse that the Galaxy needed strong Government. But the regime had little popular support. It was hard to officially tell, there weren't many people about to take opinion samples, but it would be surprising if it had more than 15 support among the citizens of the galaxy.

The Emperor Palpatine was accountable to none save himself. Although if one is to be fair, he did have some support among the humans in the Galaxy, his support base, plus one or two favorite non-human species such as the Hutts. The Senate which used to run the Galaxy had been side-lined so much as to be laughable. And local or planetary decisions where taken up by Governors who where selected by Palpatine's supporters.

Palpatine had created quite a sizeable Imperial beaurocracy. One of his justifications for seizing power had been as well as creating 'strong,' government had been to cut down on the Republic red tape which was, to be fair, slightly complicated. But in reality he had done nothing of the sort. In fact, Imperial beaurocracy was almost double what it had been in the previous regime.

In terms of complexity Imperial beaurucracy was light-years from the old Republic one. Understanding it was an art form. Known only to a few. Indeed, if one could understand it, and if one was human and male, one could make quite a fortune from using the beast. Perfect for those that liked the Empire.

And all this was expensive. Including the big fleet which the Empire liked to build for himself. The Imperial fleet consisted of huge Star Destroyers, Space Stations, floating satellites. Some unkind people suggested this was because Palpatine had a very small gentilla! This was paid for by large increases in Taxation.

But particular types of taxation. The direct and probably the fairest form, Income Tax was generally reduced. This was because the Imperial support was from the rich and the rich paid proportionally less income tax. Plus it was easier to reduce Income Tax and making it seem like that taxation generally was going down. But nothing was further from the truth. Sales tax on goods, tax on fuel, tax on food, tax on property etc all should large increases. Many of these highly regressive hitting the poor hardest.

Space travel tax that was a good one! Anyone travelling in space had to pay for a yearly licence. Nice sounding. But this was one of the most regressive taxes imaginable. It just meant that your average space-goer just had to spend more of their income on tax, while the richer traveler was less badly hit. For anyone that is aware of it, it was basically a poll tax in space!

But hitting the poor hardest, more gradually after a period of time is in line with Palpatine's Sith philosophy. This basically took might is right and damn the weak to extremes! With a little access to frightening unnatural powers thrown in.

But all of this was known to Matt. To Gram as well, but he didn't like to admit it so much. Anyway, Gram had his own things to think about. 'Oh, look a little card school amongst the travelers seems to be taking place. Time to join in. Hey, isn't that, that Solo kid I see? He's a little naïve. Think I can take some credits from him.'

'That's Han Solo, isn't it?' asked Matt.

Mr.N nodded. 'Yes, he seems fairly new on the smuggler circuit. He's decent enough, if slightly surely. I wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of him. Doesn't do anything unless it's for money. Still, one can't really blame him for that. That's the sort of character that thrives in the Galaxy at the moment! Hope your Gram doesn't take him too lightly. He's a surprisingly good player.'

'And has cleared me out on more than one occasion,' Mr.N thought to himself.

Matt had similar concerns. At worse one could describe Gram as an erratic player. But the two of them where on a difficult and what could be dangerous mission. He really wanted his partner in the right frame of mind for it, not concentrating on winning credits. He mentioned to his Droid, 'I hope he remembers about odds. I sometimes wish you could advise him on statistical probability when he plays cards,' but unfortunately using Droids as an ally was considered the worst form of cheating in most card schools!

But today it seemed that Matt's worse fears where unfounded. Gram sat down with a grim face indicating the desire to join. As it happened they where playing round Sabacc which meant that each round was a separate game with it's own winning pot. Han gave a tight smile, 'You can only come if you have credits.'

'You'll find I have enough!' replied Gram in the same manner.

Well, it seemed Grams luck was in. He had a rudimentary understanding of how to win at the game and the odds fell for him. After a few rounds he had won a modest sum of credits. Although a few hours at his work would have given him more!


	5. An assasination attempt

But as it happened Han wasn't too annoyed. 'Nice to see someone with skill,' he replied with flattery, but truth was that he was simply encouraging Gram to return. 'Then, I'll have his credits off him, he thought to himself. But Gram and Matt where to have a busy next day with some smuggling.

In the meantime, on his homeworld, Dave was just settling down for the evening. But he felt something. Dave looked outside into the night air. 'Had he heard a noise?' thought he. Dave thought he could see something in the bushes near his home.

'Dave get down,' screamed Judi his wife and a blaster shot whistled past him. Dave now could see some kind of droid firing a blaster at him. Dave made a dash for his Spacebike which was parked in his drive. He started it's engines and fortunately it was all in working order. This Spacebike looked like a simple bike, but it's design was actually quite sophisticated. Plus the device was capable of flight. And Spaceflight even! However Dave took off. Despite it's wheels screaming as he dashed down a quiet road, it was clear that the Droid was still following him and possibly catching.

So, Dave took of into the stary sky. Unfortunately his potential assasin was also capable of flight and sped up after him. Dave flew high, above the huge Turbosteel smelting works and he could see the smoke rising out of the factories. Dave increased the bike's speed up to nearly it's maximum which was about 800 kph. Pretty quick, eh? But his pursuer was persistant if anything. Dave tried ducking, swerving, diving but still the chase continued.

Dave tried flying up above the clouds. Down to just above the surface. Through a wood and just above the tops of trees. But apart from bruising himself, he didn't achieve anything. Dave could hear in the distance the whirl of other vehicles joining the chase. These, however, he could tell where his friends, trying to help. But they where too far behind to be of any assistance. Now he realized he was running low on fuel. So Dave tried his last trick. Down below, he noticed the River Withywindle. Dave checked his Bike's oxygen cylinder, then dived down onto it, then with a splash disappeared underwater. His bike was adapt at underwater travel as well!

Surprisingly this worked. Swimming underwater seemed to confuse the chaser. The droid decided to follow Dave's manuevor. But whoever had designed the Droid had not put in underwater capabilities. And pesumably the droid didn't know this. After a few minutes under the river it short-circuited, spluttered and exploded! Seeing this, Dave surfaced, landed on the River bank and sat down. Dave was alive, but he was cold and soaking wet as assistance finally arrived.

Later, Whitesnake read a report onto the failure of the assasination attempt. He sighed, not been too surprised. 'If you want something done properly, you have to do it yourself, or at least not rely on a Droid!' He muttered.


	6. Some Sabacc playing

Gram, Matt and E1234 where hiding in one of the dust-rings on a Planet nearby Mr.N's. They had purchased a shipment of supplies for the strikers, but to wait as the Imperial patrols undertook a scan. They where reasonably hidden but had to wait for a time for the patrols to move from the area. 'Wait, wait, wait,' Matt muttered to himself. 'All this hanging around we have to do a the moment. I can of fancy a bit of action.'

Gram turned around to him in surprise, 'Don't get any funny ideas. There's no way we'll survive a direct confrontation with those guys. You've seen the way people die in space. You want to commit suicide, kiddo, just take a walk out of an airlock. And wait till you've finished your shift with me first!' growled he.

But Gram did have to admit that the smuggling was getting more difficult with each passing day. The Imperial fleet have uped it's patrols. This particular run would have to increase it's speed to pass them. 'Hmmmmm, maybe we should increase our fees in turn,' he considered to himself.

So, he decided that easier money could be earned by possibly playing Sabacc in the Cantina, seen as he was on form. It was Matt's turn to hurrumph skeptically at this suggestion. But before play could resume, first they heard the news of the attack upon Dave. 'That was a lucky escape, it seems that some people are seriously out to get Dave,' Matt commented.

'Well, I suppose that happens when you are one of the leading figures of opposition to a totalitarian regime,' replied Mr.N.

But now another game of Sabacc was brewing. This time, Gram wasn't playing quite so well. He misjudged a hand by someone and had to throw in more credits than he expected. So Gram was playing catch-up. Not a good idea against someone like Solo. 'All right, I'm down a little, but I am sure to do better as the game progresses,' thought he. Just a shame he didn't take his partner's advice about odds.

Matt was talking intergalactic politics at the bar. 'So, you are saying that there's a big demonstration in some days time?' asked he.

'Yes,' confirmed Mr.N. 'There's a works in a planet called Nottingham. Most of them are still at work, so there will be a major demonstration outside it. There is some contact between the workers who are still in and those that are out. Many of those that are working do not enjoy doing so, but have to for financial reasons. But we believe that they don't understand how strongly we feel about things. A large demonstration of our feelings would certainly help.'

'But the Empire doesn't encourage such demonstrations and are therefore making it as difficult as possible for us,'

'That's right Sarah. There might well be trouble. At least we're expecting it. But those like Mugwort want us to keep things as peaceful as possible. I suppose he's right,' said Mr.N a little reluctantly.

'More than suppose, I am right on this one,' said Mugwort crossily as he joined the conversation. 'Much as appreciate your desires to have a punch-up, can I remind you once again, how delicate this political situation is. You do have some support in the Imperial council. And it is vital in this case, not to loose such influence. But many consider the strikers to be just thugs. And with the media doing everything it can to drum up this image, please try not to give them an excuse.'

'But that's kind of hard when you know that the Strormtroopers and the Police never loose an opportunity to attack us, or to beat up our strikers.'

'I know, Sarah, I know. We just have to try to be clever. Or show restraint. We loose what support we have in the Imperial council or simply amongst the normal population, the regime will have just the excuse it wants to annihilate us totally. Um, on another note, it doesn't look to me like your friend is playing that well at cards, Matt!'

This was a correct observation. Gram wasn't doing that great. He had already lost what he had won the previous day and had just bet most of what he had left on banking on getting a flush. As the cards played out, he wasn't so lucky. 'Please, mind that sweat, it's getting on the tables, people have to drink of that!' Han unkindly joked, but Gram obvious nerves, sweating and shaking was not helping his game. Even the droid was winning money of him and losing to a droid at Sabacc was considered the ultimate humiliation. 'Well, are you in for an all nightier?' was another quite subtle piece of gamesmanship from Han.

Gram grunted, 'but I'm down to my last credits. I haven't enough to put up a decent hand. I don't suppose you could accept some IOU's?'

The dealer a rather suspicious looking Twi-lek said with a dangerous soft voice, 'Do we look like the type of people that give credit?' to laughter from some on the table. Disappointed, for some reason, Gram made his way back to the bar.

'Suppose I'd better get a beer, seen as this is the last few Credits I possess,' said he.

'But at least you won't loose them on here,' Sarah answered him as she poured Gram a drink. Possibly she should have done him a bigger favour and refused to serve Gram. But Sarah was a nice girl and she didn't have the heart. In fact she asked him another question. 'That ship which hounded you for a while earlier today, it wouldn't have been a prison ship by any chance?'

'Possibly, Sarah, it did have all the hallmarks of one, but why should a political opt-out like me care?


	7. Picket line riots!

Well, personally, I have to admire your restraint. I would find it very hard to see a Prison ship and not shot at it, even though it might be morally objectionable and not very wise. But however...'

Sarah was right, it was a prison ship. But then prison ships did often frequent this planet.

In order to add to the Political Prisoner population in the Galaxy. Of course in many cases the Empire had other things to do to political opponents than to simply put them in Prison, but the number of political prisoners, was at a rough estimate 20 Billion.

For a number of species, however, annihilation was the Emperor's option. Either because they where in opposition to the Emperor's policies, or out of spite, or simply because they were considered useless. The major species wiped out by the Empire where the following:

The Gungans, the Gubfas, the quotuors, the Niemis, the ruotcips, the Harrowideies, the Zeuosds, the Nanons, the Diedords, the Neswords, the Wirrim, the Sirrim, the Doldor, the Dodo, the Didios, the Hobtylin, the Orthidizeis, the Thals, the Dhillisions, the Zarrocks, the Pockocks, the Chrichos, the Zssihions, the Pasloids, the Piopouss, the Zarms, the Rioties, the Beccords, the Nammoides, the Arrachoinids, the Fistios, the Diniards, the Bushiers, the Gramoroids, the Loepas, the Thonioans, the Cforibs, the Werroids, the Jocobities, the Rqudians, the Dritish, the Critish, the Uiods,

The Labyands, the Autonns, the Butods, the qwerts, the Huorts, the Huourins, the Hithilums, the Shacorts, the Kaledians, the Odsloitians, the Kuiods, the KKodsians, the Qpzzzs, the Sectoids, the Yankiens, the Liams, the Arrayianods, the Lierfds, the Cyborgs, the Nitiens, the Feelines, the Stiroins, the Anglish, the Yackoons, the Skkyians, the Daloids, the Osgiliaths, the Grothonds, the Peppiers, the Mannons, the Bionians, the Piorities, the Crowithies, the Gondolians, the Bondolians, the Rimoians, the Frohistians, the Fiotisian, the Durinities, the Goldiars, the Mannocops, the Jackers,

The Bierons, the Chiosties, the Aiostians, the Axxieties, the Pictions, the Zygons, the Sygons, the Trinnies, the typhoons, the Yakkis, the Peladonians, the Desians, the Giathons, the Poppiteis, the Francos, the Tobians, the Cricketers, the Bordians, the Worrities, the Witfordians, the Walfordians, the Criabs.

And that's not quite the end of the list. All intelligent species. All having as much right to live as Humanity. Although maybe not quite as numerous or powerful. But collectively the loss of an awful lot of intelligent life. And never coming back.

Which was one reason why some species had, unfairly, but understantably a hatred of Humanity. There was once an occasion, around a hundred years before this tale when Humans where nearly destroyed by a sudden program introduced by a deranged Chancellor, using something clever involving plastics. Well, by a whisker, humanity survived. But there where many people in the Galaxy at the moment which wished that wasn't the case.

Take another policy by the Empire. In the Republic at the time just before Palpatine's rise to Chancellor, there was the problem of people going of sick due to back pain. The problem was that back pain was very hard to tell for certain if someone had it. Yet if someone did, it was enough to put them off work for a while and claim sick pay. The problem was that there was an epidemic of people doing this, and some suspected, rightly as it happened that people where just claiming this as an excuse to get time of work.

Well, to be fair to him, the Emperor did find a solution of sorts to this. He introduced a program wherby anyone with backpain which caused them time of work had to apply to a clinic. Where, one in five where executed! The innocent or those that where faking alike. It was amazing how the number of people claiming backpain declined!

Well, to be fair to him, the Emperor did find a solution of sorts to this. He introduced a program wherby anyone with backpain which caused them time of work had to apply to a clinic. Where, one in five where executed! The innocent or those that where faking alike. It was amazing how the number of people claiming backpain declined!

Well, the Planet Nottingham was a few light-years away from Mr.N's homeworld. But a large demonstration was mounted outside one of the works. With much negotiation, the Imperial Police had allowed the Union to demonstrate within sight of the factories. Which was pretty much the point. Many of those working where curious and would have like some communication with the strikers. Which the Empire was keen to prevent. So, Dave and some of the leader would not have been surprised if the authorities engaged in a little trickery to still prevent this.

The weather was cold, it been winter this time in Nottingham. Everyone was wrapped up, except some of the hairier species, but even they seemed to feel the need to wear something. For some of those that preferred hotter climes it was very unpleasant. Mr.N, Dave, Mugwort, Sarah and many of those from Mr.N's steel factories where there. So too where thousands of helmeted, heavily-armed Stormtroopers. It was Whitesnake who was in charge of security and a tricky job it was too, but Tarkin did feel that Whitesnake was up to it.

So too present where Gram and Matt and E1234. Matt had much sympathy with the Turbosteelers, but in Gram's case it was more to make some much-needed money on a burger stall! 'See if I can re-coup some of the money I lost at cards,' said he, ever a trier! It began to snow, bitingly. The Stormtroopers stared at the strikers and some raised their blasters but didn't fire. A song/chant started up.

'Palpatine, Palpatine, Palpatine, out, out, out!' went up the cry with much clapping! Many flags waived. Now, some of the Police pushed, slightly but still provocatively into the Strikers pickets, not much, but the pickets where pushed back a little. This was quite deliberate by Whitesnake. The pickets where just pushed to where they couldn't be seen by some of the Nottingham turbosteelers. Some where given a crack on the head by a truncheon just for the hell of it.

Now it is all very well, people like Mugwort urging restraint but many of the striking Turbosteelers where tough, hard-bitten, simple, but not stupid men. So when provoked, many took the bate. Little scuffles broke out with the police in the snow, many where determined to recover the ground which they had recently lost, which made the strikers look like the aggressors, which was perfect propaganda material for the Imperial-controlled press.

Mr. N happened to be quite close to this and could even see some well-armed Imperial cannons, which he was not sure all his fellows had noticed. They where pointing right at him, but where not firing to his immense relief!

The Commander of the Imperials, Whitesnake was in something of a quandary at this point. Poor him! But his problem was that Tarkin had not been totally clear about what to do at a point like this. 'Well, you have to be restrained. We want those workers that are working to be on our side and neither do we want to alienate the wavers at the Imperial court. However, if there is any way you can give the strikers a beating and make it look like they are the aggressor, do so.'

'Thanks you very much for that, and are you going to be here with me?' asked Whitesnake a little sarcastically.

'I'm afraid not. There is a little problem with pirates out at the Caribbean sector. I have to be dealing with it,' replied Tarkin as he waved Whitesnake goodby.

So Whitesnake was in sol command of the Imperials at this crucial conjucture. He saw many of the pickets making ground in one of the areas they shouldn't near a smelting point of the Turbosteeling production. Well, he couldn't allow this, but he had to be restrained, naturally. 'Let loose the Water-cannons!', was his decision and the Imperial Police fired the pickets with cold, hard, intense water, throwing them backwards.

One of those covered with cold water, which was the last thing one wanted on a cold enough day was Mr.N. But now one of his subordinates said to Whitesnake, 'How about the lasers? We could finish these guys off! We have them!'

Whitesnake struggled with himself. The Imperial officer part of him so much wanted to do what was suggested. It galled him that these people showed such independent hatred of the Empire. It just wasn't natural. He had the manpower and the weaponary, oh such weaponry. One word and those pickets would be sorry. Those that survived. He knew that he should look at the bigger picture, but sometimes, sod the bigger picture.

He tensed his knuckles. 'No.' commanded he. 'We have just, I feel made a propaganda coup and we could spoil it if we act too aggressively. Yes, we'll get these strikers, but there are many more out there, and potentially more. Just stick with what we've one and let them keep on attacking us. For now. But one day, we'll have them!'

One of the issues which the Imperial-controlled galactic press loved to keep on about was the violence in the picket lines, and that created by some of the pickets. If one believed the press every picket line was fulled with thugs who had the desire to invade those factories still at work and stab everyone still working. Well, there might have been one or two that thought that thought that, but this was exaggerated out of all proportion. If there was violence on the picket lines, it was mostly created by those that had just cause to hate the Imperials, and there was as much violence by the police as by the strikers.


	8. Reaction

Many of the Strikers leaders where dashing around urging restraint. They did get many takers, so the violence was nowhere as near as bad as it might have been. Not that one would have noticed that from the Imperial press the next day. Well, looking at the number of people, or indeed whole species that had been wiped out by the Empire, the hyprocracy of the Press, hanging on about this riot was really breathtaking.

Not that this stopped them. For the next few days, their was in-depth 'analysis,' of the riot, many shots of the strikers, those that did riot, always at the uttermost worst, and always at the most violent. There was one particular scene where some police where running away and where set upon by some Oxheys, big hairy bipeds, and beat up severely. Of course the fact that the Oxheys had recently seen their planet ripped apart by the Empire and where feeling a bit sore and one of their fellows had been brutally shot when trying to surrender was never mentioned.

No, all the attention was given to these big, hairy, people beaten up some Imperial Police. No attention was made to the efforts of Mugwort, Dave, Mr.N and many others to stop the entire occasion getting totally out of hand. Though deaths there where in the fraccaus. Around 100 in fact. Totally miniscule in comparision to the deaths by the Imperials, but that did not matter much to the media.

Whitesnake himself was met by Tarkin a little while later. Tarkin did give him some praise. 'I have to admire your restraint. Under such circumstances. Personally, looking back at it, I wouldn't have thought that many Imperial officers would have done so, even you I would have thought have lost it. But you did well showing such patience and looking at the bigger picture. Well done.'

'Yes, thank you. But I did so much want to just unlease pain and mass-destruction at those people. Which I was unable to do so. What I need know is the need to cause some random and pointless pain. Sorry, it's just my Imperial training breaking in.'

Tarkin smiled. He understood Whitesnake's frustration. But he did have the solution. 'Baldrick, over here, I think Whitesnake wants a word!'

'Coming sir,' obeyed the rather dim-witted rating.

Whitesnake smiled too, he thought he knew Tarkin's idea, 'Ah, yes, Baldrick, stand right there and thrust out your groin.'

'Like this?' replied Baldrick thrusting out his pelvis.

'A bit more so,' said Whitesnake, then kicked Baldrick hard in the groin. Baldrick fell over in pain.

Tarkin laughed, 'Feeling a bit better now? And if you are in the more for more unreasonable violence, keep in touch. I believe we are on the verge of kidnapping a couple of important Union leaders, for intense interrogation.'

In the Union cantina, Mugwort was reading some of the Imperial propaganda and sighing sadly. It seemed that the Imperials had won a major propaganda battle. Well, for a Galaxy that was rife with official violence, massacres and prison cruelty, one wouldn't believe how much fuss was been made over a little riot. But much fuss was been made. All the press had page after page of ugly looking pictures, all involving the security in trouble. And the electronic media had shot after shot of dangerous, violent seeming rioting. Well, actually it was the same picture been repeated endlessly, but that was how these people worked.

'It didn't look good did it?' gasped Mr.N sitting down next to him. Mr.N was rubbing some bruised ribs. He had them treated, but he had been hit by a Stormtrooper's Psychowhip and had three ribs broken badly. The bacta tanks had been busy recently so it was not possible in some cases to have perfect treatment despite advance medical techniques.

'No, I'm afraid not. I think we're losing support in the council. If only some of those Lords and Ladies knew what was really going on but they won't get it from these people. The relationship between the council and Palpatine is interesting. Officially Palpatine is in charge, but...'

Mr.N noticed something. 'I can feel some sort of presence. Is something burning?'

'No, that is the Dark Lord, Vader, Look!' hissed Sarah sharply.

Indeed it was. Tall, black-armourned, helmeted and flanked by stormtroopers, the Lord of the Sith was searching for something. It looked an ominous sight. Mr.N and Sarah quivered in fear. Mr.N put his arm around Sarah, as she looked particularly afraid.

Which was actually more due to the fact that she simply was afraid of the Empire's chief henchman. Sarah was actually adapt in the same powers as Vader himself used, the force. In a very crude manner. She was one of those taking up by the Jedi, The Emperor's and Vader's sworn enemies in her early years.

But she wasn't in the same league of force talent as those around her. In fact it wasn't very pleasant sometimes been trained in single-combat and been beaten up very often! But for some reason which seemed strange to her now, she was desperate to be a Jedi. But she was obviously out-classed.

Indeed, she remembered the way she left. She had just been in single-combat with another Jedi girl of her own age and had lost rather badly. She was taken before the council and had pleaded, 'Please, let me be a Jedi, I want to be a Jedi!' But this was to no avail. The Jedi council simply couldn't let someone with her limited abilities be trained, it would have been a danger to her.

It's head, Yoda had told her kindly, 'A Jedi you cannot be. A jedi most cannot be. Unfortunate this is. Another day, another time, maybe Jedi we make you. But not with this war. Jedi today need to be Warrior. Sad this is. You must learn the adventure of life without Jedi!'

Mind, when she find out what had happened to the Jedi, wiped out to the last Jedi, she was quite pleased she hadn't been chosen for one! Now, Vader and his Stormtroopers where scouring the place. Quite where he had the authority from wasn't clear but Mr.N was taken away. Vader came before Sarah. He stood there tall and extremely menacing. 'Have you seen any Jedi around here? I wasn't here for them, but I sense something. I think someone near here has force capabilities. Know of them?'

'No, no, no idea, what is the force some sort of crazy religion?' Sarah stammered. If Vader did consider her limited force abilities to be a thread, she would have been unable to stop anything he did.

Vader put his face close to hers. 'Maybe, maybe not. Perhaps you have Force sensitives. Are you a Jedi perhaps?'

It was ironic, she thought, considering what she once said, but Sarah begged, 'No, no Jedi I am, please believe me, I don't want to be a Jedi, I'm not a Jedi!' Vader looked long and scarily. But he obviously believed her and with a quick snarl he and his stormtroopers with their captives departed from the cantina.


	9. Capture and interrogation

In the meantime, Mr.N wasn't so lucky. He had been taken away to an Imperial Star Destroyer's interrogation chamber. Others had been taken too, but the main person of importance with him was Dave. The interrogation chamber was bleak, bare and metallic. In front of him, Mr.N saw 3 of the scariest people in the Galaxy. Whitesnake, Tarkin and the Sith Lord Vader. Vader had even dismissed the official interrogator. 'I think I will undertake this myself, this needs to be done properly, after all!' He had ominously said.

Tarkin raised his hand. 'Now, after all that disgraceful rioting in Nottingham we have some leave to find out what happened and who the guilty parties are.' Mr.N thought to himself, we know who the guilty parties are, you people, when Tarkin continued,

'That's the official excuse anyway. As it happens, now we have you just where we want you. We want any information we can get out of you about missing persons, Union meetings etc. Plus a statement denouncing the strikers would be nice.'

Well the torture wasn't pleasant. No need to go into details is there? To be honest, in his pain, Mr.N would really have said anything towards the end of the session. But it seemed that Vader wasn't interested in a confession at that time. He kept on saying things like, 'Today, this is just the first level of pain. I can do much worse than this. Wait till tomorrow!' Perhaps Vader was interested in just causing pain for this day!

Indeed, Mr.N said to Dave who cell he was sharing, 'I'm not sure how much more of this I can take. Maybe tomorrow I will confess or tell everything. Even if I have anything useful to tell, which I am not sure.'

'What do you mean confess tomorrow? I've already done so today! I've told them anything they wish for.'

'So what's the point of further interrogation?'

'I think, perhaps, they don't believe me!'

The next day there was a worst sight for Mr.N. As Vader opened the interrogation door, beside him was the sight of the Emperor. Emperor Palpatine, dictator of the galaxy and one of the scariest and most powerful men that had ever lived. Palpatine gloated, 'So, this is the person that has caused us so much surprising and unnecessary trouble. I think the time has come for our revenge.'

Oddly, powerful as he was, Palpatine seemed to think that Mr.N was the most important of the hostages, whereas of course, Dave was. Even sith lords make mistakes. Palpatine looked with his wizened face towards Mr.N and raised his hands, apparently ready to launch bolts of fire and scare Mr.N some more. Which wasn't really necessary!

Mr.N was now badly tortured. It seemed to him that his entire body was invaded with hairy things with sharp teeth slowly eating his flesh. It was of course an illusion caused by Sith force power, but it seemed as much as it was real to him. He would have liked a chance to confess, but as he couldn't speak with pain, couldn't really do it! When suddenly there was relief.

An underling came with a message to the Emperor. Palpatine swore a oath of ancient, sith power. 'Oh, well, I have to go,' said he.

'Is that really necessary, you where doing so well!' exclaimed Whitesnake.

'I am afraid so. It's an intergalactic plastic distribution meeting. I have to attend, dull as it is. Last time I didn't some bureaucratic idiot called Gollum wasted a Billion credits of Imperial finance!' With that the Empire of the Galaxy departed in a dark side haze.

One irony was that Mr.N did have some information which Vader might have found useful. But only if Vader asked Mr.N in the correct manner. For all his power and use of the force, sometimes Vader could be as stupid as Baldrick. Witness at the moment when he seemed to be more concerned in causing his enemies pain than getting useful information out of them. Sometimes a common Sith mistake. In this case a crucial one!

Vader probably thought he had all the time in the world. But then there was a buzz and someone came to see him. He was dressed as a simple Imperial orderly, but Mr.N thought him familair somehow.

'Prisoner transfer!' the orderly said to Vader.

'Prisoner transfer? What in the name of space are you talking about? I am the only one that authorizes prisoner transfer's around here!'

'Not in this case, I believe!' when with a flash, the orderly revieled himself to be Mugwort in disguise.

'Mugwort!' cried Whitesnake firing a shot at him. Mugwort deflected the shot with his fingers. Vader paced before him menacingly.

'Do not pandy your pathetic, amateurish, Childish flirtations of the force with me, the Dark lord of the Sith and the most powerful force user in the Galaxy. I think the time has finally come to show who is the real black wizard in the cosmos!'

'Not on this occasion I am afraid,' Mugwort waved to Mr.N and Dave. 'I think I'll have you know that we are aware of how you took some of our officials. Now, I know that many in the Galaxy won't believe this, but remember the constituency. If our officials, including myself are not released this instant, I'm afraid, you will have a total walk-out on your hands. Now then, aarggeee!'

Mugwort held his throat. Vader was performing his usual strangulation using the force technique.

Up until Tarkin interrupted him irritably. 'Vader, realise him. You obviously have been busy and don't understand the delicate balance you could disrupt. The last thing we want right now is the entire Turbosteel workforce out. I suggest you look, if you can, at the Galactic balance sheet, and see what that would mean!' Tarkin was annoyed. For all his strength, why didn't Vader understand simple Galactic politics? Or perhaps economics.

One person who was impressed as always with the relationship between Tarkin and Vader was Whitesnake. To his knowledge, Tarkin had no kind of Force capability but he was possibly just about the only person in the galaxy that had the balls to talk to Darth Vader like that. Had Whitesnake tried that he would have been without a windpipe pretty quick he would have been sure.

Especially as Vader obeyed Tarkin in his way and said, 'Well, you know best here,' and without a further word, departed out on a mission of his own, releasing Mugwort.

Tarkin quietly moved up to Mugwort. But he had a few words of his own. 'All right, you have this round. A minor victory as it is. But we are still the Empire. Think that soon we won't be able to deal with a few strikers? So, on your way!'

In the ship on the way on Mr.N breathed out his thanks. 'That was a little close. Thought for a moment there, Vader was not going to listen to reason and execute us anyway.'

'He might well have done had Tarkin not been there.'

'But what about my confessions? Some of those things I confessed to might have been a bit embarrassing. And others.'

'Oh, come Dave, confessions extracted under torture? Who's going to believe that?'

Nimbus 3 came into view. Dave smiled, 'Well, one thing I could do with it is a beer.'

To frowns from his companions. It was a little strange that some people could have worse enemies than the most powerful dictator in the Galaxy's history on their case, but Dave did. It was called alcohol. A serious addiction which he couldn't see or control and sometimes had a significant effect upon his performance.


	10. Desperation for Gram

Indeed in the following few days there was a crucial Union executive meeting. And Dave had been drinking for the previous days. In fact he even had a few beers the evening before against his wife's advice. 'How can you concentrate on some of those complex matters if you've had beer inside you?' But Dave had simply smiled thinking that she was a pleasant enough Woman, but a bit of a nag.

But as it happened his wife was correct as usual. Dave didn't think he was feeling bad that evening, but he woke up the next morning, or didn't wake up the next morning unable to get up due to his drinking. Mugwort had arrived at his home to accompany him to the meeting to meet his wife.

'What do you mean he can't come, this could be crucial. Those who want to return to work might just swing the vote today. Yet if you keep this up for only a little longer you will be on the verge of making crucial concessions. I've seen the Imperial finance figures, they're in trouble too. Can't you turn up as proxy?'

Judi sighed, 'Afraid not. They wouldn't allow it. There was some controversy once about doing that. He has to turn up in person!'

'Well, I'll see what I can do,' was Mugwort's reply.

So, in the meeting, and tight it was as Mugwort thought, the vote of Dave, as it would seem was a crucial factor. Not that the person played much of a significant role up to his vote. Indeed he didn't say a word. Despite the fact that it could well signal a return to work. Arthur, the Turbosteelers leader glanced the odd concerned glance towards him. But at the crucial moment, the Delegate did manage to say 'yes,' which kept the strike going.

But at the end of the meeting one of the opponents took a good look at him. 'Hold on, your not Dave are you? Your... Mugwort. I've seen you before. How could you fool us to thinking you where Dave?'

Mugwort had been rumbled. 'Ah, yes,' said he with an embarrassed smile.

'You mean to tell me, you had us all thinking you where Dave? I demand a recount!'

said one of the opponents of the strike action.

'Not possible, I'm afraid. This meeting was ended and all it's implementations are in place. There's not another such for a month.' replied Arthur a little smugly.

This was true. Starting Exec meetings was a difficult business. Which the Strike's opponents knew. But one snarled at Mugwort, 'Fair enough, you have us this time. But now we know you, next time you can't pull this one off.'

Another true statement. Mugwort was a master of illusion, but there where only a limited to whence he could do it. 'I'm really going to have to get Dave off his Beer,' thought he!

In the meantime on Nimbus 3 someone else was having a hard time. Gram was now losing heavily at Sabacc. He had only in the end just about broken even with his venture into Nottingham. He and Matt where doing fine, until one of the Police Water-Cannons had fired into his stall, breaking some of it's crucial components.

And with cards he was out of luck. It was Han that was on a winning streak. Ignoring glances urging caution from his partner Matt, Gram unwisely forced Han to call. On a hand which beat anything which Gram could produce. Out of credits, Gram could only sheepishly withdraw from the table. To taunts such as, 'Nice to have the amateurs pull-out,' or

'If you want a loan, you can always call me,' from Han to general laughter.

Gram did not wish to put himself into further debt. Although despite his tough manner, Han was serious. Han Solo was not a bad young man as any that knew him could testify. He just gave a good disguise as been a bad man as in some of the company he kept some kind of bravado was necessary. Also, Han didn't want to do all of Gram's work for him. If Gram wanted a way out of the mess he was in, that was really Gram's business, Han wasn't going to mollycoddle him.

But Gram was a bit out of friends in this situation. Sarah wasn't about for the moment, the shock of nearly been arrested by Vader had caused her to have 2 weeks off, Mugwort was off trying to sort things out with Dave, Mr.N was asleep with a hard day ahead. Any union official he saw was sympathetic, but without knowing him where not prepared to let Gram have any special deals. Things could be quite hard for other people the Union where supporting.

Gram did think he had the solution. 'I'm going to do a run for the Hutts,' he told Matt. 'I only need to do one, then all my money problems should be solved for the time been,'

'But that's so risky. I've heard of people dying frequently during one of their jobs. Are you sure this is necessary?'

'For me it is, yes. Besides, it would be nice to finally have a rumble with these Imperials, I fancy. I'll do this alone. I'm not asking anyone else to come with me!'

Matt sighed, 'Yes, of course I'll come with you. We're partners. What goes with you, goes with me. Plus you're right. I'm sure we'll beat those Imperial slugs.

Neela was about, but Gram and her where not as close as once they where. For a start Neela was developing more of an independent spirit, and Gram wasn't sure he liked that, plus she was now a little older and Gram prefered young women.

So the next day, Gram could work fast sometimes when he wanted to, he, Matt, E-1234 where trying to dodge the Imperial blockade by smuggling counterbrand. As it happened there was nothing particularly harmful about what they where where smuggling it was just tax-free and supported by the Hutts. But they did have to pick up some goods from a wild and remote planet and travel across the wilds of space and just hope that the authorities didn't pick them up.

'Though of course we can outwit any of those Imperials,' laughed Matt, which was probably, but only probably and they where beginning to foget this, true. 'I remember that trick which Mugwort taught you, the one centuries old which people foget, but in his case happened in his lifetime, might come in useful!'

'We could try that. Useful person to know, Mugwort, sometimes,'

'Oh, the man's a hero. He has no thoughts for himself, is only concerned for the good of the Galaxy! What an example to the rest of us!'

'Matt, for all the fact that I like you, you can be exceptionally naive sometimes. Yes, Mugwort's a good guy, but remember there is some self interest in the way he behaves. In some ways, the only reason why he opposes the Empire is because he sees through them. He understands what the Emperor is ultimately about, which many of power in the Galaxy do not. Also, such thinking caused him to fall out with Palpatine in his early days of power, even before he declared himself Empire. Mugwort knows his head is, if not instantly, but one day, one the chopping block as much as anyone else!'

With the Imperial blockade around Nimbus 3 pretty much in place, this manuevor had to be taken. It was simple as much as it was effective. Their little smuggling ship was disguised, very simply as a meteor. It wouldn't have fooled anyone who looked close at it, but if the ship travelled at breakneck speed any watching official would have just seen it as a meteor. But then in order to avoid crashing, Gram had to slow down before he arrived at the surface, so it was touch and go.

It was also a fairly risky maneuver. All went well until there was an explosion in the engine room which was a polarity neutron flow, reverse blowback. Nasty.

The upshot been that Matt was forced to stop the vessel. In full view of one the Imperial Borderships. It was actually Baldrick who was looking onto this and for once in his life made a correct decision to contact his superior. A certain Lieutenant Pellaeon. 'Shall I run a data check on it?' Baldrick asked.

'Yes, but there is something odd about that. I just don't like it. Make sure you run a data analyisis rather than just a check.' Pellaeon ordered.

'Are you sure? If we run a data analysis on every suspicious thing we see it will take us all day!'

'Yes, sailor, I know. But just do it on this one. It will only take a few minutes rather than a few moments.' Well, that procedure turned up trumps. The results showed the vessel to be that of Gram Only one of the top wanted people in the Empire. 'Aha, shows I was right he was one that Captain Whitesnake told us we wanted. Engage tractor beem. Pull it in.'

'Tractor beem, pulling us in,' Matt yelled to Gram.

'Make that trying to pull us in, we might be slower, but we can still avoid that,' replied Gram to his partner.

They did manage to pull out of the tractor beam, but seeing that his prey where escaping, Pelleon decided to destroy them rather than let them do that. Blaster fire erupted from the Star Destroyer's cannons, one raybolt hitting Gram's ship. Even now, Gram and Matt had a chance of escape had they just turned and ran at full pelt their swifter ship with a head-start might well have gotten away.

But been hit now just made the two of them madly angry.


	11. The End of the Strike

Authors word of warning: this Chapter does contain a little nasty scene where a couple of my characters have rather messy and painful deaths. Those readers, ha, like I have readers, I don't think anyone's reading this! Who are sensitive about this type of thing be warned on this chapter. Anyway, on with the tale!

...

'Right, I'll show them for scratching my paintwork. I've had it with these Imperials. Let's get them. we'll do some damage at least!'

'With you, Gram! Ah, now we can get to grips,'

The only voice disagreeing was the droid. 'Sirs, do you realize the percentage improbabilities of winning in this situation?'

'Looks like metalboy doesn't like it. Shame. Come'on son!'

Gram and Matt smiled at each other, Matt was excited in charge of such a big cannon pointing at the Imperial ship.

A very brief firefight in the starry blackness of space above Nimbus 3 atmosphere took place. Well, some damage was caused. Maybe enough for, say half a day's work for one shift on the Star Destroyer. But Gram and Matt discovered to their cost that they should have listened to their droid. Because they where hit. Badly. Then fatally. A laser bolt cut their ship into two.

Now, any readers of a sensitive nature or young children, do not read the next couple of paragraphs. Just accept that Gram and Matt both had painful deaths. For everyone else...

Gram and Matt both perished. But not easily. Matt was in one section cut of by the bolt which caught fire and he was roasted to death. But he had it easy compared to Gram.

Gram was hit, painfully in the back and was rocked back in his seat, half-paralyzed. So he couldn't even reach his blaster to give himself an easier death. Life-support was off and poisonous chocking gas covered his section of ship. Plus he was frozen in the coldness of the atmosphere and was crushed by the g-force. So, slowly, over a number of hours, Gram was frozen, chocked, bleed and crushed to death. His body was found later with his face fixed in his death-scream!

Now, all right, that's not very nice! But that was the way some people did die in the fighting in space. This author is not convinced that all of the readers are fully aware of this fact. The only survivor in fact was the droid E-1234 who didn't need atmosphere and his head was later discovered on the planet's surface so he could be re-built.

On the Star Destroyer, Pelleaon congratulated himself on a job well done. As did Whitesnake later when he heard of the incident. He even mentioned it to Tarkin considering the importance of Gram and Matt. 'Promising material, this Pelleaon,' Tarkin commented.

'Indeed. I've seen his handiwork before. He has the credentials of one of our more intelligent officers. I remember a few months ago he was in charge of the Garston operation.'

'I don't seem to recall that, Whitesnake,'

'Well, it wasn't too significant, sir, more due to Pelleaon's attitude. He swiftly and effectly rounded up many Rebels. But he was aware that more where about and our resources where a little scarce and valuable on this occasion. So, he massacred them to the last Rebel a few hundred dead.'

'Heavy resistance?'

'No, sir, they had surrendered. But we couldn't afford to take prisoners, and Pelleaon knew this. No, it was cold-blooded massacre of prisoners. I saw the internal com-system of the events.'

'Hmmmm, like you say, promising material.'

But Tarkin was becoming very worried about this strike and it's possible reprecussions to the Empire. He, Vader and the Emperor had a high-level meeting about it after a few days. 'This strike seems to be going on longer than we had anticipated. I have even been forced to have a look at some of the Galactic balance sheets. We cannot go on like this. Even for one month more, we will go bankrupt. We might have to make major concessions. That would be the end for us. I thought we where in charge, not some workers,' was the Emperor's comments.

Vader made a suggestion, 'Now isn't it time I just used the Force to control the workers and make them go back to work if I cannot slay them all?'

Tarkin sighed, 'Because there's about half a million of them, Vader. Can your force control that many? No, thought not. But you are right, Sire, this strike is now serious. In fact, the next month could well be the time when we find out if it succeeds or not. But for now, we should hold our nerve. The Strikers do have the power of controlling the Turbosteel production, but the problem for them is that's the only power they have. We have others,

'Reports I have been getting say that many of the strikers are on the verge of returning to work due to starvation tactics. Fine, it obviously isn't as much as our propaganda says, but it is happening. They must crack soon. Lets hold on for a while yet.' Well, this wasn't as it happened a particularly inspirational speech but it did the job as far as the two Sith Lords where concerned.

Tarkin was correct about one thing, the Strikers where having problems of their own. The starvation tactics of the Empire where proving effective. The trickle back to work was becoming more widespread. Some plants such as those at Liverpool, Newcastle, Edinburgh, normally more militant had voted to return to work. There where definite signs of this becoming a flood.

But Arthur, the leader still remained defiant. 'We can't stop now. We have the Empire on the ropes. Surely we can keep this up for just a few weeks more.'

But others replied, 'A few more weeks? But we've heard this. Then some more and some more. For how long? and the only results we are seen is poverty and loss of wages. No, we're sorry, we appreciate your laudable aims, but we and our families need to live.'

The next Union exec meeting would be key. If it voted to return to work, the strike would collapse. That was just how these things worked. But Arthur and his allies calculated that they still had a wafer-thin majority.

Which was partly down to Dave. His vote might well be the key factor in this crucial meeting. Which could have been a good reason for him keeping of the Beer. But Dave found this so difficult. Even the evening before the meeting took place, he couldn't resist a trip down to his local Bar. If he had some of his friends about, they might have persuaded him to take it easy.

Matt, for example had developed some kind of a friendship with Dave and might well, considering the importance of the meeting, pesuaded to go for a meal in a local restruarant instead. But Matt, of course, was dead now along with Gram. Which grief simply presented Dave with another excuse for alcohol. 'Drowning my sorrows,' he would say, perhaps with justification, but he could overdo it.

Mr.N had considered himself a friend of Dave's. Indeed he had even promised to get into contact with Dave via phone or perhaps on the Computer and have a bit of a chat as an alternative to beer.

But unfortunately, Mr.N was at a party on the crucial evening where he didn't get drunk, but had a good time. But forgot totally to contact his mate, Dave.

Sarah, who was at the same party even reminded him about this, 'didn't you promise to get in contact with Dave this evening?'

'Ooops, forgot totally, well I'll do it tomorrow, can't be that important,' said Mr.N apologicatially and wrongly.

Mugwort, also may have been able to assist. But Mugwort was away on another mission and otherwise engaged. Well, he was up to his neck in swampy, fly-ridden water with a howling gale hiding from Imperials and getting wet to be precise. Dave's wife did give him a little bit of advice, but unfortunately Dave needed more help than that.

But Dave was sure that he was feeling all right, after one then two bottles of ale. Then he discovered there was some time to go and had time for one more. And one more. But still, Dave thought he felt fine. He even left the bar 15 minutes before close, which showed, thought Dave, how good he was been.

But what a hangover he had the next morning. Plus feeling absolutely slaughtered. His wife had gone out for the day and had given up talking to him about his drinking, so he was on his own. 'Naaah, go to the Union meeting later, sort out anything then!' was Dave's thoughts as he turned over in his bed at 8:00 and went straight back to sleep and ignored any attempts to contact him.

The meeting itself went on without him. Arthur was worried about been without such a key ally, but tried his best. Mugwort was away, and besides couldn't have performed his trick a second time.

So a crucial vote to return to work was taken. And those wanting to go back won by just one vote. Dave's absence was the deciding factor. Arthur resisted, but with the Exec voting to return to work, even narrowly, there was nothing he could do. Amongst those that had triumphed on the vote there was little real celebration. Even though they had won, they had done so with a heavy heart, knowing the consequences.

It was just that they couldn't keep up been without work and wages for much longer. Plus a little bit of Imperial intimidation was involved. When Dave later found out about the news he was horrified, especially about his absence. But it was now too late for that. The Strike was over, without the full support of the Exec.

A return to work, reluctantly, took place. Even amongst the Imperial propaganda, it was admitted that the return was noble, together and proud with the workers walking together in lines of thousands under Union banners, even singing and playing instruments. But a defeat it was. The Empire was relieved at the fact that it was the strikers that had blinked first.


	12. Epilogue

In the next few weeks the Empire put, with undue haste, measures in to reduce the power of the Turbosteel production and the Union. Mr.N was working for a while, but he was now aware that he was on the wanted list of the Empire and would not be long before some action was taken against him. Another opportunity like this did not happen in the Galaxy.

Any possibly now of a peaceful overthrow of Palpatine's regime was gone and the choice of war or living under an unspeakably ruthless dictatorship with the desire of destroying all was inevitable. And a long-lived war it was too in various guises. The Union's power was quickly reduced and no-one with influence wanted to continue the struggle in that manner. Had they only continued for a few weeks like Arthur had suggested things would have been so different. A bankrupt Empire would have been forced to fall.

Rather hard to blame all this on Dave, simply because he couldn't handle his dependency on Beer. Especially as he was a decent man who wanted good in the galaxy, not without talents either. But such could be the fact.

To the other characters of this tale. Mr.N disappeared. He was given warning by Sarah that the Imperials where after him, said he was 'off to the pirate sector,' and vanished. In fact, dispite the grim nature of this tale, there where pirates and smugglers, some of whom where causing major disruption in some parts of the Galaxy to the Empire. Indeed, there where even some planets, admittedly very few, that where hidden in the Galaxy, which is a big place, and untouched by the Empire's evil. It's possible that Mr.N made it to one of them, though that tale is never told, and frankly it is unlikely, it is more probable that Mr.N died in the unregulated systems of space on the way.

Curiously though, Mugwort did a similair thing, but of course he did survive, but he never mentioned the fate of Mr.N. Arthur was captured for treason a year after these events and executed by the Empire. Dave survived, but he did not enjoy the years of Imperial domination and did try in his own small way, and small it was too to help the future rebellion.

So that's it. The story of how a peaceful resolution to the Galaxy's problems was possible, even likely at one stage, but never happened. Well, the rest of the history was endless war.

** THE END.**


End file.
